


We'll Sweep Out The Ashes in the Morning

by MissInComplete



Series: The MollCroft Papers [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Confused Molly, Drugs, F/M, Jealous Mycroft, Mention of Molly/Tom, Mycroft-centric, Overdose Sherlock, Possessive Mycroft, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissInComplete/pseuds/MissInComplete
Summary: Molly Hooper is in a long term relationship with Tom but has been caught up in Mycroft's charm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> Firstly, I haven't stopped writing Maybe this time I've just been caught up with life. The draft version has been plotted and started for the next chapter.
> 
> Secondly, I hope you enjoy this longer than normal one shot. I couldn't remember Toms last name - or if he even had one! 
> 
> Much love x  
> MiC x

##  We'll Sweep Out The Ashes In The Morning

 

_ There are some instances in time that are doomed to repeat themselves. They are etched into the sands so deeply that no matter what is done to avoid them they will happen; like the sun rising.  _

_ Couples are like that. _

_ History has shown us that some people are as addictive as drugs and a relapse is inevitable _ . 

 

_ Present time _

It was early one afternoon when Mycroft and Sherlock were bickering in the lab over a body that had come in a few hours early while John tried to play referee, just as Molly’s phone rang. She fumbled with her pocket and apologised to no one in particular as she glanced at the screen, ‘Tom’ glowed and vibrated from the small device. She blushed a little and gave a small nod to John.    
“Don’t leave me.” He mouthed across the cadaver but she gave a polite ‘nothing I can do’ smile and beelined for her office. 

Molly held the phone tighter to her ear as she shut the door with her hip trying to block out the horrendous racket the supposed _grown_ _men_ were making.  
“Sorry, try again -” She closed her eyes tight and focused on the voice coming from the phone rather than to the two in the morgue next door. 

“Hey Mol’, good day?” She final heard Tom ask cheerfully. 

She narrowed her eyes a little,  _ ‘Did the racket next door sound like a definition of a good day?’  _ “….Erm, just a little busy, is everything alright?”

“Oh, anything interesting?” He answered.

Molly took a deep breath;  _ he was being a good, caring husband, she should be happy to have found someone like him…. _ she repeated this to herself more times than was probably healthy. ‘ _ It shouldn't irritate you that he's trying.’ _ “The usual really; dead bodies, PM’s and the Holmes brothers noise pollution.” Tom gave a chuckle on the other end of the line, “- Oh, erm, I think I’ll be finishing late again tonight, if Sherlock has a case on-”

“Oh….okay,” This pause she knew well. It usually ended with a reluctant sigh and a cold shoulder when she got home at an ungodly hour, “well that's great because a few of the team were going out, I wasn’t going to go if you were home but...I guess we’ll be back around the same time?” Molly was the one to pause this time. This was new. But good. Definitely an improvement.

“Great!” The door to Molly’s office opened after two brief knocks and Mycroft walked in, shutting the door to behind him. “Tom, I’ve got to go-” Mycroft stood close by watching her closely. Though Mycroft still carried the air of completely unruffled she could see the static practically leaping off of him from his mental spar with his little brother. 

“Ok Mol’s, see you tonight, I love-.” Molly’s heart ached in her chest as she hung off a little too quickly to give a  reply.

She blushed as she fidgeted getting her phone back into her lab pocket, avoiding Mycroft’s stare.    
“Its customary to return such declarations to ones ….’ _ spouse’ _ .” He practically growled, finally. Before she had chance to speak Mycroft had moved in on Molly and had her pressed up against the wall, his lips locked with hers. She didn’t need more than a second to respond, wrapping her arms around his neck, one hand left resting at the back of his head, their tongues searching each others mouths with Mycroft leading the possessive dance. 

It had been a three weeks since they had last been together and Molly found the guilt at the start of all this was quickly erased when Mycroft made a reappearance in her life, lab, office, his car, her flat.

When he finally broke the kiss, she immediately rested her head against his chest taking in the sound of his pounding heart, bringing her arms around his waist. “How was the trip?” 

“‘Hmm.’” His hands gently caressed her cheek and his thumb brushed along her lip as they stood in the silence of her office. A soft sigh escaped one of them and then he composed himself and pulled away.   
Mycroft glanced down his nose at her, his expression still blank but not unfriendly and offered his hand.

She knew what to do, placing her left hand in his. He eyed the ring resting on the commitment finger and slowly slide it off, sending a shiver of anticipation through her as he placed it in his blazer pocket and then exited the room. 

Molly watched him and bit her lip, tonight would be another one of  _ their  _ nights. 

She followed his lead and heard him say, “Miss Hooper was  _ chatting  _ to her  _ beau. _ It would have been rude to interrupt.” 

John scoffed at Mycroft as she entered, “Her ‘husband’,” he corrected, “And since when have you cared about manners?” Mycroft didn't respond, only a raise of the eyebrow gave any sign he’d heard John at all. 

“Dear ol’ Tom checking up on you, Molly?” Sherlock sniped, “Probably for the best since your attention has been diverted, though you would expect after trapping someone in a marriage he’d feel less insecure. Though you do work closely with men you’re very fond of, even one you fancied yourself in love with-” Molly’s heart stopped,but Sherlock gave a cheshire grin and a quick wave of his hand. And it jump started again. All the time Sherlock was flicking through reports and files, opening drawers and examining the dead man on the table. “Though, it isn’t me who has your attention this time…” He stopped sharp and looked at Molly hard, frowning. He couldn’t quite place what he was seeing this time, his head was a flurry with the current case, but he knew he was onto something when her denial didn’t come but the blush along her chest and up her neck did. 

“If you’re quite done Brother mine,” Mycroft interrupted, sounding fedup, “One case at a time, hm? I’m sure _Miss_ _Hooper’s_ love life is a _fascinating_ topic however there’s a serial killer to track.” He had collected his umbrella which had been resting against the table and was now casually leaning on it, a small tight smile on his face as he gestured to the body. 

John glanced between the other three with a look of pure confusion but disappeared quickly after Sherlock through the clattering doors without asking a single question. 

Molly let out a sigh and her shoulders sagged as the doors shut behind the soldier, Mycroft was still leaning on his umbrella glancing at his shoes completely nonchalant. She wished she had his bravado; inside her stomach was twisting and her heart was racing - that had been the closest they had ever come to being exposed. It had been around a year now and so far Sherlock, or anyone for that matter hadn’t figured them out. Molly said nothing as she fumbled through the other pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a box of cigarettes, saying nothing she held the packet towards the elder Holmes. 

He raised an eyebrow and paused, it must be getting too much if she was carry smokes around in the day. He’d only known her smoke when- well, she only smoked after  _ taxing  _ activities and the smokes were usually purloined from his tin from his trouser pocket. 

He slipped one out and placed it in his mouth and she lead them through the back door of the morgue and out into a small court yard, retrieving her lighter and offering it again to Mycroft.    
They stood in silence for a moment before Molly glanced around to make sure no cameras were trained on them, “Mycroft-”

“It is fine, Miss Hooper.” He commented without looking over to her, “Sherlock is just acting wounded because you’re not pining over him nor are you his shadow anymore, he’ll get over it again.”

“It been-”

“One year, three months, two week, and fourteen hours.” He blew out the smoke. 

“I was going to say a while,” She laughed a little, “But, yes. Why has it taken him this long to notice?”

“We’ve discussed this before - Sherlock only notices when it affects  _ him.  _ You’re no longer going that extra mile to help him and when that event occurs and he realises all over again and he... _ sulks. _ ” Another drag on the cigarette. An affirmative noise came from Molly and she turned towards Mycroft as she dropped her cigarette butt to the ground, taking a step closer. He eyed her but didn’t move away and she leaned into him as almost a sideways hug. She stood there for a few moments and then, turning, she placed a hand on his blazer pocket, feeling her wedding ring through the fabric. He watched as her eyes became somber once more, “Mycroft…”

“The last time.” He dropped his cigarette and looked down to her, “As always.” With that he placed his hand over hers giving it a small squeeze and removed it from his person. He’d send a text in a few hours and she’d know where to find him. 

\----------

**_One year, three months, two week, and fourteen hours ago_ **

 

“John go home, honestly, I’ve got him for a few hours - you need a break.” Molly hugged John tightly as his wet eyes struggled to stay open. Both of the friends were covered in grime and blood from excavating Sherlock from one of his hovels. John’s frame shook as Molly held him tighter.  _ Sherlock, you’re going to get such a tongue lashing over this!  _ She vowed as she stroked John’s back and squeezed him. “Come on, they’ll be a few taxi’s milling around down stairs, you’ll be home in no time and once you’ve had a few hours and a shower you can come back and we’ll swap, okay?” John nodded sharply and sniffed, his bulky frame moved quickly out the door. 

Molly’s smile faded and she sank in her chair as she cradled her head in her hands.  _ For fuck sake Sherlock! How could you?! _ She moved back towards the bedroom and checked his heart rate and blood pressure once more. She rearranged the cushions and turned him slightly so he wouldn't get sore. She brushed a few hairs from his face, “You bastard…” She whispered, “You absolute sodding bastard…” A tear moved slowly down her cheek, “If you get through this I’ll kill you..”

“I sincerely hope not. Especially after all the effort you’ve put into keeping him alive.” Came the voice from the doorway, Molly jumped around and within an instant had knocked several books from her bedside table and it landed with a loud gasp from the offender. “Really, Miss Hooper…”

“You shouldn’t have made me jump,” She sniffed indignantly when she had realised it was Mycroft, “You’re lucky I don’t store a gun closer to hand.” Molly wrapped her arms around herself and perched on the edge of the bed. “You don’t need to search my flat, I was kidding…” Mycroft watched a moment but didn't pass a comment. “His vitals are steady, they could be better but for now steady is the new high score…” When Mycroft didn’t speak for the second time Molly began to ramble, “John should be back in a few hours… he needed a break. After finding him like this… John didn’t want to go but he did on the condition I’ll do the same afterwards. We can’t leave Sherlock just yet.. Just in case… Lord knows why he did it this time, John hasn’t a clue. Everything was fine, cases were a little slow but not… not enough for  _ this _ …” She paused when she heard her phone vibrate. When she rolled her eyes, Mycroft finally spoke, 

“Avoiding someone Miss Hooper?” 

“What? No… No, not- that is, I was supposed to be meeting Tom tonight and he’s just checking up on me. Not in a jealous sort of way, just in a  _ you’ve cancelled to take care of another guy  _ sort of way. I wouldn’t blame him for having an issue with it- not really… But it’s never going to change, Tom knows I’ll always do everything for my friends….” Molly wished she’d stop talking but late nights/early mornings had taken their toll. She still didn’t answer the call though. “I’ll call him back later…” She muttered, placing the phone screen down on the bed. She covered her face with her hands once more and sat in silence. She must have fallen asleep for a moment because the next thing she knew Mycroft had said her name and was handing her a cup of coffee and she's suspected a tot of whiskey. Molly hesitated a moment, she wouldn’t normally drink while on duty but if the head nurse was supplying the beverage what's the worst that could happen? She took the cup and sipped it slowly confirming what she already knew. Feeling her muscles relax a little she sighed.

“Drink up and then go take a shower.” Mycroft insisted, “He will be fine for half hour whereas you might not last the night.” She smiled and without a word knocked back the contents and made her way into the bathroom. 

Mycroft watched her retreating form and once he heard the bathroom door close he slouched down onto the bed. His eyes roaming over Sherlock, taking in each assessment and cataloguing it for comparison in an hour. Once that was done he removed his blazer and hung it on a peg on the back of the door and then loosened his tie. 

It was going to be a long night, may as well be comfortable. Mycroft leaned back in the chair which had been set next to the bed and crossed a long leg over the other, hands hanging over the ends of chair arms. 

 

He sat lost in thought for quite some time but once he came to he heard a choked sob coming from the bathroom; listening once more to confirm and yes, Molly Hooper, was indeed sat in the bathroom, alone, sobbing with the shower running. 

‘ _ Probably about Sherlock.’  _ Mycroft took a deep breath as though to shout from the bedroom to ensure she was okay but thought better of it and rose to make his way to her. His selfish younger brother certainly wasn't worth the tears - especially when the damage was self inflicted.

He wrapped his knuckles on the door and waited but the crying didn't cease, “Miss Hooper?” Still no reply. “Doctor?” A heaved sob. No doubt with the water running she couldn't hear him. 

This stumped Mycroft for a few moments - should he just wander in? After knocking again he decided that maybe this may be more serious than just Sherlock's state and decided to just take the gamble.

Slowly he pushed the door open and peered inside. The steam from the shower had clouded the room so he came in a little further. He found Molly sat on the corner of the tub, hair in a messy bun on top of her head and a towel wrapped around her, crying into her hands. 

“Miss Hooper?” He had pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to her.

She took it and dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose, “I am so sorry Mycroft. You must think I'm ridiculous! Sobbing in the bathroom whilst it's _your_ brother lying in there… it's just, it's nothing….” Oh to hell with it. “I just can't help but feel so bloody lost about Tom.” 

Tom...? Oh.  _ Oh. Not Sherlock. Right. Not prepared for this.  _ Mycroft shifted his weight from foot to foot slowly, frowning at Molly. So she continued. “He wants to get married - he's happy for it to be as soon as possible! And he wants to settle down and have children AND for me to stop being involved with Sherlock. Too dangerous he says.” Again Mycroft didn't speak and Molly continued still, “It's all so fast. I mean, we've not known each other long and he's already trying to discuss all this - moving into a house? A house away from Baker Street, away from this life style… I like Tom. I do. But..? I just don't know…. I know I'm not getting any younger ….but…? AND What if I don't find anyone else and-” The tears started again and Mycroft couldn't have been more uncomfortable. Here he stood in front of Sherlock's pathologist in an indecent state of dress on both sides, arguably her more so than him and found himself with no idea of how to handle this. 

He surprised himself when he finally he spoke, “Miss Hooper?” He stood in front of her. “What if, just for now, you aren't engaged and you just focus on the task at hand?” Molly looked confused so Mycroft held out his hand and gestured for hers. 

Whimsy had never been Mycroft forte but it seemed the way to go - if the world wanted to play ‘silly buggers’ then he may as well join in. A crease appeared in her brows but she placed her hand in his and stood to face him. She let him slowly twist her ring off and pop it in his shirt pocket. “There.” He held her hand still, staring at her fingers intensely for a moment before meeting her eyes. Molly felt her heart rate double as she studied his face. Slowly, he said, “Right now, none of those issues exist. You are just Molly Hooper. A single, attractive and independent woman.” 

Without thought Molly brought her mouth up to his and kissed him firmly. When he made no move to pull away she brought her other hand round to hold him. Within an instant his hands found her under her towel and had pressed against the bathroom door. Molly had made quick work of his belt buckle and the couple that weren't a couple at all became a single unit, and every concern and every question died on their lips as they spent themselves with each other. 

 

The come down was awkward for the briefest moment until it became evident both were happy to pretend it hadn't happened. That Mycroft hadn't claimed Molly in her bathroom while an unconscious Sherlock lay feet away. That Molly hadn't moaned Mycroft’s name and wished she didn't have a man waiting just a phone call away. And, after everything, the intimacy they shared left in the haze of the early morning cigarettes.

 

It was only a week later though when Mycroft insisted they see one another and ‘clear the mess up’ by which he meant inform Molly that he intended for this to be a permanent fixture and that he had every intention of seeking her company out again.  

Molly snorted when he'd spoken to her in the little local coffee shop. But when he merely looked annoyed she cleared her throat, “Mycroft, you can't seriously think I'd - we'd - I mean…” She blushed and spluttered. “It was good- great even but Mycroft,” She raised her hand and wiggled her finger, “Tom?”

Small micro movements in his eyes showed he was processing the next response but all it came out as after a few moments was a shrug of the shoulders. “I have no intention of stopping your engagement.”

Again Molly laughed, but this time it continued until it turned bitter, “Oh well isn't that kind of you? Mycroft, you realise how ridiculous this is! Last time was a,” ‘mistake’ sprang to mind but she couldn't say it, “ - it shouldn't have happened. We were both exhausted, mostly  emotionally with Sherlock and Mycroft I'm getting married soon.”  _ Reluctantly, as logic is less dominant than loneliness. _

He sipped his tea and placed the cup down. Silence stayed between them for a long time before he finally asked, “Is that all you have to say on the matter?” 

Molly didn't answer right away, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully, she couldn't believe they were really having this conversation and if it wasn't for Tom…. But… No. She had Tom. Was marrying Tom. “Yes, that's everything. I'm flattered Mycr-”

He stood abruptly and looked down at her, “Excellent. You have yet to come up with a valid point to convince me this isn't to be continued.” He bent down and kissed her forehead.  “I'll be in touch. Duty calls.” And with that he strode out of the shop leaving a very baffled Molly in his wake. 

 

When he arranged her kidnap it had been a few weeks later and she was less than impressed but once again she was swept away with the insistence of the suave elder Holmes. How simple, clean cut he made it sound for her to just admit she wanted to physically be with him, to say out loud just how much she enjoyed being ravished by him, to declare that this could last as long as he'd want her. 

Every time, once she was back home, she would take a shower and cover up any marks and hot wash her clothes before Tom could spot anything amiss. 

_ It's just sex. _

_ It's just sex. _

_ I wish it was just sex.  _

_ I wish it wasn't just sex.  _

 

Months later, and many  _ meetings  _ later, Molly hung her head between her legs as she sat on her squishy sofa, cradling it and squeezing her eyes shut. Her heart raced as she waiting for the inevitable knock on the door. She'd asked Mycroft around when he finished his latest meeting and decided it was time to talk. Actually talk. Not just sit while Mycroft lead her around in circles and then into bed. 

Molly's knew the affair with Mycroft was slowly becoming more and more integral to her life. She lived for each of their little moments, each text or brief call. Each impromptu meet up had her heart racing and soul screaming. The excitement of small looks shared over a corpse in the morgue were becoming too much to handle.

 

She knew their steps:

They met around once a week, the routine like clockwork

 

  * __A one ring phone call in the morning.__


  * _A text around lunch._


  * _A black car at the end of her shift._


  * _And finally a location of his choice._



Sometimes, just a handful of times if it had been over a week she'd find a black car idling on the curb outside, without warning, with Mycroft waiting inside. These unplanned meetings turned out to be his way of just touching base with her. A reassurance that she wasn't being forgotten - he was just busy. ‘Would a  _ just sex  _ set up go to such lengths?’ She'd often wondered. 

Every day that went by without a text from him felt like an eternity and Molly found it harder to deny the feelings she felt so she decided at the next meeting she’d tell him. Tell him just how important he'd become. How she couldn't spend time with Tom without wishing it was him.

But most of all she'd tell him that she cared for him too much to do this any more and if this couldn't be all then it would be nothing. That's it. She'd finally said it. In her head at least. But it was one step closer to honesty. 

She scoffed,  _ honesty _ ? Who was she kidding? A love affair with Mycroft Holmes whilst planning her wedding with Tom - which she was willing to throw away if Mycroft would just say that's what he wanted-

 

A knock at the door broke her thoughts and she smoothed her top and tucked her hair behind her ears. She hurried and turned the latch, giving a small smile as the tall gentleman let himself into the room. 

“Molly.” He greeted as he placed his briefcase down in the usual place and removed his coat and blazer. She closed the door and watched the routine unfold, clasping and unclasping her hands as she did so. He final noticed her hovering by the door. “Is everything alright, my dear?” He stepped closer and offered his hand. 

She, out of habit, placed her left hand in his and moved towards him but as he relaxed and went to remove the ring once more she spoke, “Mycroft,” He paused, “We need to talk.” He ran his thumb over her ring slowly, as though he suspected where this may be going. She saw his shoulders rise and he moved away to stand, hands in pockets, over by the bookcase. She gestured for him to take a seat though a small eyebrow raise declined the invitation. She wanted to move closer and hold him, try and coax the man back out from behind his shell. She knew the moment he held her though that the entire night would fall apart and into bed and she'd never tell him how she felt and this would never end. She took a deep breath, “We can't do this anymore - I can't do this anymore.”

His eyebrows raised but his face kept impassive. “Molly,-” He made to come to her but she held out her hand to stop him.

“Mycroft, please? Just listen.” She shuddered, “I know, you're fine with how things are. But… I just can't, i can't do this any more. I,” Her mouth dried out, “My wedding is next week- this, this all hurts too much. I care so deeply for you but you don't... you don't want…” ‘Me…’ she thought sorrowfully. “If you could say now that you want ‘us’ I'd call Tom, I'd tell him- I’d tell the man who is planning our wedding, picking children's names who wants me so purely that I couldn't do it. I'd give everything, right now. But I’d need to know you feel the same before I threw all that away. And I know….”

She stopped when she saw Mycroft head towards to coat stand and gather his blazer and coat. “You deserve to be happy, Miss Hooper.” He kissed her cheek and left. 

She stared at the door for a long time before crawling into bed and sobbing herself into a fitful sleep.  

\-------

  
  


The wedding went off without a hitch - even Sherlock behaved himself. Mr and Mrs Green fell into their lives as husband and wife like ducks to water. Mostly because nothing really changed - Molly's post looked odd for a few weeks while she got used to the sight of ‘Mrs M Green’ or just ‘Mrs Green’ but other than that, Tom didn't insist they move out of the flat just yet and she still worked at St Barts and Sherlock still snapped at her and thrashed around her morgue. 

The only major change was the lack of Mycroft. Something Molly felt deeply.

When Tom worked late or Molly worked alone she allowed herself to think about him, and how it had played out. How he'd chosen to walkout rather than pursue a proper relationship. She'd even cry sometimes, especially if she'd heard about him that day. Or if he'd had to come in to claim a body, well, that was crippling.

But they did it. With the utmost civil behavior and not a word out of place. 

She wanted to text him, just to make sure he was okay. Or double check the body was right - or maybe even ask why he hadn't wanted to be with her properly and left her when she wanted him most. 

But she knew that wasn't sensible or rational so she took to just opening his contact on her phone and closing it again. And opening it again, starting a new message. Then closing it again. Then assigning a silly picture to his number. Then removing it because she'd die if he ever found out. Then locking her phone.  And then opening it again and then clicking - 

Oh shit! Molly panicked, it's bloody ringing. Hang up? It's too late now - he'll call back regardless and if she doesn't answer they'll be a swat team with her in seconds. She clears her throat as she hears him pick up. “Miss Hooper, is everything alright?” His tone seemed strained. How would it sound to seem indifferent but utterly panicked? 

She cleared her throat again, “Mycroft…” oh god… “Hi… busy?”

He didn't respond straight away, she could hear he'd held his breath for a second and then, “Not at this moment. Is everything okay?” 

“Errm, yeah,”  _ I'm just a world class idiot and dialed you by mistake and I'm too embarrassed to tell you,  _ “I….” She sighed and paused. What felt like the longest few minutes passed with neither saying anything. 

“I'll be with you shortly.” The line cut off.

And it began again.

 

\--------

 

_ Present time _

 

Molly felt her phone vibrate and scooped it out of her coat as she locked her office. 

_ Car outside - MH _

A smile took her by surprise. She hurried outside and climbed in. 

 

\------

 

They lay in bed, his arm around her as she traced patterns into his chest absentmindedly. His eyes were closed but she could feel his breathing change as he woke up. 

_ 10pm - He'd leave soon, Tom didn't usually stay out too late. _

“Mycroft?”

A grunted ‘yes?’ came from his chest.

“When we stopped, when we stopped ‘ _ this’  _ before, did you miss it?” She practically whispered into his chest. She knew he'd heard her however because his breathing ceased for what felt like a long time. Then a long exhale. He turned his head and kissed hers, mumbling into her hair. 

“What?”

“Hmm” Barely a whisper. “I never gave you reason to believe I wasn't happy with the arrangement. You ended it, my dear.”

Molly frowned, “If you were  _ happy _ why didn't you say? We spoke about it and you never-” She pushed up to stare at him.

“No. Not at all.” He frowned back at her. “You called me here and told me you couldn't do this any more and listed all the reasons how Tom was the perfect partner. You'd said before you had no intention of calling off your engagement for our ‘engagement’.  _ We  _ never  _ spoke  _ about it. You told me what you wanted and I agreed to leave you to have it.” He looked sleep ruffled and adorable. And if he wasn't slashing through her illusions Molly would agree and thoroughly kiss him.

“You said you were fine-”

“No. I said you deserved to be happy. And you still do. And the way you spoke about Tom back then… well it was clear that he was the one making you happy…. Just like right now, I believe this,” He gestured to them, both naked and in her bed, “is making you happy? Good.” Molly felt her heart drop,  _ ‘He just wants me to be happy…’  _ Mycroft watched as the cogs tightened and snapped inside her head. He brushed her hair behind her ears and continued, “When we spoke in the cafe all that time ago you made clear you didn't want anything more, and if physical intimacy was the only intimacy you were offering then I would have been a fool to not pursue it.”

He kissed her gently.

“Mycroft….” Tears sprang into her eyes, “I want you.” He kissed her more passionately. “I've been so stupid.” He leaned forward claiming her and pulled her on top of him once more. 

They both froze as they heard the key in the door. 

“Mol? You home?”

The front door shut and foot steps could be heard entering the living room.  _ What if he spotted the blazer?!  _

With that Mycroft raised his finger to his lips, he reached across and swiped his phone off the side and with a few dexterous strokes had sent a message. They listened intently at what sounded like the kettle boiling and then a phone ringing.

_ Hopefully he was a little tipsy or tired or horrendously ignorant and didn't notice the briefcase tucked down the side of the cabinet by the door or the blazer hanging with the random coats on the stand.  _

“Hello? Oh you're kidding me?! Christ!.... fine. Fine. Yes. Give me five minutes.” More clattering and then the door slammed. 

Neither spoke for a while after. Still holding their breath in case he came back. Mycroft  was the first to clear his throat and speak, “As lovely as this is,” He eyed her appreciatively, “It would be prudent to be in clothes next time he comes back - Anthea will have brought us twenty minutes.” She blushed furiously and smiled, carefully climbing off him and gathering up her clothes. 

Fifteen minutes later when Mycroft was showered and dressed immaculately once more he stood by her front door. “I want to see you soon.” He kissed her. 

She smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Are you sure? I mean, we never concluded-”

“Molly, if the sporadic relationship we share is enough for you then I want everything. All of you.” He kissed her once more. “If this is what you want I will also endeavour to make more time for  _ us.”  _

Molly could feel her heart swell as she kissed him soundly, “Good night Mycroft. Next time you're free we can talk.” 

He smiled and dipped his head, walking out of Molly's flat phone in hand preparing to organise the removal of Tom Green from her life. No way was Mycroft Holmes waiting to claim what was now undeniably his. 


End file.
